


it took me too long to figure it out all by myself

by notthebigspoon



Series: Jet Black Sky Is Painted White Again [8]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunter Pence: out of the closet and refusing to let it terrify him.<br/>Chelsea Cain: like Matt Cain but twice as awesome.<br/>Brandon Belt: sexually conflicted but romantically loyal.</p><p>Title taken from Fearless by Neurosonic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it took me too long to figure it out all by myself

Hunter is called into the park early the day after the scandal hits, hours before he'd usually arrive on a game day. The set up is different than the day before. This time, it's just Bochy and the press secretary. Hunter breathes a little easier. If this is what it's down to, then at least his job isn't at risk. Not until the season is over anyways.

Business as usual, he's told, that's going to be the approach to the situation. The organization is going to state that they won't be commenting on the personal life of their player. The political climate is in Hunter's favor, he's told. The backlash for trying to punish Hunter for his sexuality would be out of this world, he doesn't have to worry about that. But they do need a statement on his actions because it won't go away on its own. He tries to repeat what he said yesterday. Bochy and the secretary both shake their heads.

“That's not going to do it. You don't have to explain who you are but the fact remains that Victorino is a married man with children. You need to apologize for interloping on those relationships.”

Hunter considers protesting but by his reckoning, they've got a fair point. He'd gotten involved with someone he had no place getting involved with and he couldn't say with any honesty that he regretted what he had while he had it. He does feel bad, feel terribly bad, for what this is probably doing to Victorino's wife and kids. He nods, mumbles in agreement and asks just what that means he has to say or do. When he hears the words 'press conference,' he feels sick to his stomach.

There's relief in knowing that he doesn't have to write it himself, but that only makes things marginally easier. He huddles over a legal pad with the press secretary, going over Hunter's previous statement and reworking it into something fit for public consumption. They add in the apology and then Hunter is made to read it, over and over again, until he has it memorized and it actually comes out sounding natural. Every time he reads it aloud, every time he says 'I'm gay' and someone hears it, it has a little less meaning.

They're just words. Words that partly define him but words nonetheless. The next few weeks are going to be a maelstrom of words, good and bad and downright ugly. Some of it is probably going to hurt like hell. But ultimately, that's all it is, words, and as long as he's still in the show, the rest of it doesn't really matter. He talked a big game to Castro and then Belt about knowing who he is and being okay with that, being proud of it, refusing to be a coward and refusing to let fear rule his life.

Time to put his money where his mouth is.

He's coached before he goes on, about how to carry himself and what to say. Stick to the statement, he's instructed, and only apologize for hurting Victorino's family, no more and no less. Don't give any further comments when you're done, just get out of there and call it good. He fervently agrees with that portion of the coaching. As soon as they're done, he hurries off to change for BP. He checks his phone and feels queasy all over again when he realizes the game is still hours away and the press conference will come before he's ever ready for it. Some of the guys are starting to filter in and he's relieved when they're behaving normally again, saying hi and shooting the shit, like it's any other day.

The press conference is like all of his nightmares come true. It's crowded to capacity. The lights are so bright he feels like squinting and he's sweating bullets. He's pretty sure that it's not a hundred degrees here and that his skin isn't shrinking but it sure as hell feels like it is. The only comforts are Cain, Zito and Romo in the corner of the room. They give him an encouraging nod and pats on the back before he moves to sit down. He shuffles the papers in his hand, clearing his throat and looking around the room before staring down at the paper. He thinks of all the times he told Castro and Belt to never be ashamed, that thinking because you were gay meant you had no place in the show was bullshit. He takes a deep breath, pushes the paper away.

He tries not to flinch back from the flashing lights of the cameras, just clears his throat and starts pulling the words from his memory. His voice wavers a little, he can't help that. This whole situation is terrifying and he shouldn't have to be going through it at all. That strengthens his resolve, gets him past afraid and into a little angry. He adds the words he promised the press secretary he wouldn't, voice venomous as he tells how the pictures were taken and released without his permission. He apologizes, voice back to wavering and in front of all these people, saying that out loud, his cheeks flood with shame. That's the last part and the hardest.

When it's over, he's not sure what to do with himself. He pushes himself up and walks away without another word, biting his lip and shaking even when he's met with smiles and thumbs up from his teammates. When they're back in the clubhouse, empty now for BP, it's dead quiet. When Cain pulls him into a hug, he sighs and buries his face in the man's shoulder. There's hands on his back that can't be Cain's and when he thinks about where he is, how these people are supporting him so wholly, he shudders to think about how differently things might have gone in Philly. How they would have gone in Houston.

When he pulls back, he wipes his face and manages a smile after taking a deep breath. “So I guess I did okay?”

“Did perfect.” Zito nods, thumping Hunter upside the head. “We're proud of you. You going to be okay?”

“I'm fine. Always knew this could happen. Just hoped it wouldn't, y'know?”

“Is there anybody that's going to be upset when they see those pictures?”

“He's seen them. He's not upset. Worried about me maybe.” Hunter shrugs, because that's the way he's reading the situation with Brandon. When the younger man had arrived earlier, he'd given Hunter an encouraging look and he'd snuck a hug when Hunter was on his way out to the press conference. Brandon isn't a problem in this situation. Well, not as long as he doesn't dump Hunter, he isn't.

Getting back on the field is the first peace of mind he's had since this started. Baseball makes the entire mess fade to the background. There's booing, not that he expected anything less, but it's mostly drowned out by applause. He's never been so relieved in his life to be in San Francisco. He keeps his head down and doesn't acknowledge any of it, just focuses on the game in front of him.

The home run makes is a damned sight easier.

When he circles the bases and makes it back to the dugout, he's greeted at the steps by his teammates. Something comes flying over the top of the dugout and pings him on the forehead. His hand catches it before it can roll down his chest. He lifts it in front of his face. It's a slim rubber bracelet with 'pride' written on it. He stares at it before slipping it onto his wrist. When he spies Chelsea standing there with a smirk on her face, he grins and blows her a kiss.

He sits on the bench, mopping his face off and trying to stifle the grins. Belt sits down and rocks into Hunter, grinning. “So should I be jealous of Chelsea Cain?”

“Haven't you heard? I don't like girls. They're scary. They have cooties.”

“That's good to know, because I was kind of hoping to take you to dinner tonight. It's meat loaf night, isn't it?”

“You, sir, know the way to my heart.”

“Pick you up at eight?”

“I'll be waiting.”


End file.
